


Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious

by tonkshamsandwich



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War I, M/M, Minor Character Death, No knowledge of ww1 required for this fic, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 06:37:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10961739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonkshamsandwich/pseuds/tonkshamsandwich
Summary: France, in the middle of World War One. Dirk and Todd meet on the front lines and fall in love. (Even though it takes Dirk a while to realise that he does)





	1. Chapter 1.

Cold.

_screaminggunfirecriesofpain-ratatatat-ohGodpleaseendthiswhenwillthisstop_

Cold. Wet. 

_coldwetsocold-Jacksonwascoldjoking-headupheadshotduckJacksontoolate-bloodeverywhere-redeverywhere-screamseverywhere_

Cold. Wet. Red. 

_andpainsomuchpainohgodpleaseendthis-mummywhereareyou-sosorepleaseimsorrypleaseendthisicanttakeanymore_

“It’s alright laddie, we’ve got you now, you’re safe.”

Darkness.

_The Brotzmann house, Seattle, Washington, April 1917_

Todd adjusted his grip on his bag again, nervously fidgeting. His father patted him on the arm. “Good luck, Theodore,” he said impassively. Behind him, Todd could see his mother standing in the doorway. She refused to meet his eyes.  
His father stepped back onto the porch, allowing Amanda to come forward and hug him, tears in her eyes. “Come back home,” she whispered into his ear.  
“I’ll try,” he promised, and closed his eyes, gripping her closer to him, before reluctantly letting her go. “You stay safe, you hear me?” he asked.  
“Only if you kill all the bad guys first!” she managed to shoot back with a tremulous grin. Todd could only nod back. “And make sure to write!” Amanda added.  
“Of course I will,” Todd said, before pulling her in for another quick hug, releasing her, turning and walking to the end of the driveway, where a cab was waiting to bring him into town. He paused just before getting into the back, looking back at the house. Amanda was the only one standing there, looking small and pale and alone. Todd waved at her before getting into the cab. He looked out the window for as long as he could, Amanda waving the whole time.

That image would remain in Todd’s mind forever - Amanda’s pale face shining with tears, hand waving frantically at him as she slowly got smaller and smaller in the window.

_Ripon Command Depot, England, May 1917_

Dirk sighed as he looked out the window again. The moonlight filtering through the clouds bathed the grounds in a silvery glow. Everything looked peaceful and quiet, not like the trenches in the Somme. Dirk sighed again, this time in frustration. He couldn’t even admire the pleasant night without thinking of the damn war. He didn’t even want to think about it, but it seemed to be all he could ever think of. Every night, he would wake up from nightmares, sometimes screaming, sometimes not. It all depended on the type of dream, if it was a memory or if it was an even worse scenario. Even when he was awake, he couldn’t escape it. Sometimes he would hear a loud noise and all of a sudden he would be back in the trenches, reliving some memory. Dirk had taken to digging his nails into his palms to bring him back from it. It mostly worked. No-one seemed to really have noticed. It’s wasn’t like it was hard – there were around 800 officers here in Ripon, changing almost daily. Dirk himself had been here almost a month already, and would probably be here for another month or so. Dirk sighed once more.  
On the one hand, he desperately wanted to be doing something – this boredom every day was hellish. Here at the command depot they were just training everyone back to fitness, so every day was just an endless series of mind-numbing drills and exercises. On the other hand, he would give anything in the world, anything, not to be back in the trenches. He didn’t think that he could last very long there anymore. His only chance was being deployed behind the lines, perhaps protecting a base or lending help to foreign allies, or perhaps even being promoted by some act of courage that didn’t leave him injured... Dirk allowed himself to fantasise a little about all the ways he could avoid going back to France, but then locked all those thoughts away in a little box in the back of his head, where he kept imaginings such as spending time with his family or having friends.  
He stood up from the windowsill and stretched out, his back popping, the newly healed scar on his front stretching a little too. He relished the pull, delighting in the fact that he could even do this much. Two months ago, if he’d done this, it would’ve torn open and begun sluggishly bleeding blood. Dirk stretched a little bit further, then glanced at the clock. It was 3 am. He yawned. Maybe if he lay down now, he could have two or three hours of uninterrupted sleep. Dirk yawned again. His pillow was looking very soft right now.

He clambered into bed, the sheets still carrying a ghost of warmth, and laid his head down, sleep claiming him seconds later.

_American Military Training Camp, New York, June 1917_

Todd doubled over, gasping for breath, feeling like his heart was about to pound right out of his chest, and gripped his side, where a stitch had been causing him agony for the last half mile. He stayed bent over, one hand on his side and one hand steadying him against the ground (or well, as steady as one could be while every muscle in your body was shaking) as everyone else finished racing around him and collapsed as well. After what felt like not nearly enough time to fully recover, the sergeant-at-arms yelled at them all to get up and get some water before they all fried in the midday sun. Todd hauled himself up using the last vestiges of strength and staggered over to a low trestle table where three large pewter jugs were stood with some tin mugs lay scattered around them. He snagged one and shakily poured himself a glass before gratefully chugging it all down. Unfortunately, the tepid water did little to revive him, but Todd was slowly getting used to it. After all, he’d been here for six weeks already, and the conditions here were nowhere near as good as he was used to at home. However, they weren’t as bad as he’d heard other camps were. Some didn’t even have enough bathrooms for everyone. Todd considered himself fairly lucky that he’d landed here.  
While Todd was thinking, he noticed that General Kinsey had been joined by another general, who seemed to be surveying the recruits. He grimaced to himself. They were probably looking for some suckers who’d become officers, or take part in some special op of some sorts. Todd hoped it wasn’t him. He’d heard that 60% of officers hadn’t survived day one of the Battle of the Somme, and that officers had one of the highest mortality rates. He just wanted to be a normal soldier, go over to Europe and get this over with. (Although, preferably he’d be at their summer home with Amanda, racing each other through the fields. This was the next best option, however.) Todd shrugged off the thought and kept his head down as he trudged towards the barracks. He hoped that he could avoid the attention of the generals if he spent his down time alone in his bunk. Maybe he could write to Amanda again; he hadn’t replied to her last letter. As Todd walked off, he failed to notice Riggins pointing at him and turning to Kinsey.  
“And who’s that?” Riggins asked, pointing at the small dark-haired man who’d finished the two mile run first. “That’s Theodore Brotzmann. He’s very quiet, keeps mostly to himself. Seems to be quite peaceable. It’s a pity, really, if it wasn’t for that, he’d be a perfect officer.” “Oh really? Why’s that?” “He has unusual tactics, he follows orders well, but can improvise if needed, and is good at negotiating. However, he lacks that killing edge – he avoids taking lives if he can. An admirable trait, certainly, but not in war.” “No,” Riggins agreed. “However, he could be just what I need. Is he any good at leading?” “He seems to be. Never seems to have any problems with any of the rest of the recruits in his barracks, and indeed, he even helped file a complaint against a staff sergeant who refused to issue them the correct number of blankets necessary for the group.” “Hmm...” Riggins tried looking for Brotzmann in the crowd again, but was unsuccessful. Either the man was quick at moving through crowds, or he was good at going unnoticed. Both were plus points, in Riggins’ opinion. “So can I have him?” Riggins clarified. “If you do all the necessary paperwork, yes, he can be transferred within the week. I’m not dealing with all that red tape for you.” “Understandable,” Riggins said, not quite smiling, then turning back to look at where he had last seen Brotzmann.

“Theodore Brotzmann... I think you could be just what I need.”

_July, 1917, a secret training facility for the Military Intelligence_

“And this is your room. There is a communal bathroom at the end of the hall, and the mess hall and the training room are through the double doors there. Mess hall on the left, training room on the right. Dinner is at eighteen hundred hours, breakfast at oh seven hundred hours. Sir!” the young private saluted Todd, then turned on his heel and walked briskly away. Todd entered his room and sat down on the bed. He looked around. The room was tiny, with a small grimy rectangular window letting in some light up near the roof. There was a rickety desk, a chair that looked as if it would fall apart if he sat on it, and the bed he was sitting on. There was an oil lamp on the desk, but it wasn’t turned on and there were no matches that Todd could see. Apart from that, the room was bare. Grey walls and grey floors. At least he had the room to himself, Todd thought. About the only upside to this situation.  
Todd wasn’t exactly pleased that he’d essentially been promoted and transferred to some sort of secret military project thing. He didn’t even really know what he was going to be doing. Was he going to be some sort of spy? A cryptographer? Todd didn’t consider that likely. He knew nothing about that sort of thing. What then, he wondered?  
Just then, there was a knock on the door. Todd startled. Standing in the doorway was an elderly gentleman in uniform – the same man that had stood beside the general in New York. Todd leapt to attention.  
“May I come in?” he asked.  
“Yes sir!” replied Todd. He wasn’t stupid – just because he’d acted polite and asked didn’t mean he couldn’t be a right bastard who would let inferiors away with insubordination.  
“At ease, Lieutenant,” the gentleman said. Todd lowered his arm and placed his hands behind his back at parade rest. “My name is Colonel Riggins, and I will be in charge of you and your team whilst here at Operation Blackwing. Do you know what it is you’ll be doing here?” Todd shook his head cautiously. “Well, Operation Blackwing consists of three parts. There’s a cryptography unit, an espionage unit, and a small, but efficient strike team, which will be led by you. All these branches will work together, yet independently. You will all report to me. You will be trained here, and then parachuted in behind the lines in France. Your job will be to remove obstacles that could impede our victory, such as tanks or artillery or forwards posts. Understood?”  
Todd nodded, head reeling. This sounded serious - really serious. He was in charge of a strike team – what? “Who will be in the – I mean, my – strike team?”  
Riggins reached into his jacket and withdrew some files. “Here are your strike team, as well as the files for the other two operatives within Blackwing.” Todd nodded, still feeling overwhelmed by everything. Perhaps sensing this, or perhaps just wanting to go do something else, the colonel inclined his head then abruptly left.  
Todd sank back down on the bed. This had all happened so fast. One minute he was drilling out by the barracks, the next some private told him to pack all his gear and that he was being promoted to lieutenant and being transferred to another location to complete his training. And now apparently he was part of some secret operation that would operate behind enemy lines. Or not even part of – in charge of! At least that would mean that he wasn’t going to be in the trenches, but still. Todd wasn’t exactly comfortable with his sudden change in station. However, he doubted that he could do anything about it except roll with it.  
Keeping that in mind, Todd decided to read through the files. He picked up the first one, which contained a grainy photograph of a young woman. ‘Bart Curlish,’ read her name. Born in 1895, she’d grown up on the streets of New York; until she’d been caught pick pocketing by Riggins at the age of 14. He’d taken her in and trained her in various martial arts and espionage skills. She spoke French and German fluently and was ‘handy with a dagger’. Todd decided he didn’t want to know what that meant. When the war broke out, she’d become the first member of Operation Blackwing.  
The next person that Todd read about was named Ken Hackerman. This time, a young black man with mournful looking eyes stared out at Todd from a sketch. Ken was 24 years old, and had grown up with his mother and three younger sisters. He had been gifted at maths at school, but when his mother lost her job he dropped out of school to work as a mechanic. He was enlisted the same as Todd had been, but had had a rougher time of it. He had been discovered by a sergeant being beaten up by three men, who put him in the hospital for two weeks. When he came out, Riggins had brought him into Blackwing to learn cryptography.  
After that, came Todd’s own team. Todd began to feel some nervous energy build up as he looked over the four files, before selecting one at random. First up was a Latino man simply named Cross. No first name or last name. He had been on the streets of Chicago as a small child before being found by Social Services and entering an orphanage for young boys, where he met up with two older boys named Martin and Gripps. Todd checked the other files. Yes, they appeared there too. Martin and Gripps, both with no surname either, had both grown up on the streets and then in the St. Maximilian Home for Rowdy Boys. After twenty years together the trio was obviously very close. They had even all gotten an apartment together in Chicago once they all turned 18. Martin worked as a locksmith, Gripps worked as a butcher and Cross worked as a postman. They had all volunteered together when the call came, and quickly excelled at the more violent aspects of training – obstacle courses and working with guns and hand to hand combat and such. However, they all had been written up at least twice for insubordination, and didn’t seem to be all that great at tactics either. Riggins had overheard Kinsey complain about marking them up again and had them transferred to Blackwing within the month. There they’d met and quickly formed a close bond with Vogel Chau.  
The fourth file, Chau’s, was slightly thicker. Vogel Chau was a half German, half Chinese man who had moved to America when he was three years old with his parents. He had grown up speaking both those languages and French to boot, as well as English of course. By all accounts he had been a quiet child at school, however seemed to get into fights quite often. He had also volunteered to fight when it was announced that America would enter the war, and had also shown an aptitude for violence during training. He had impressed Riggins when he performed some complicated hand combat manoeuvre on a fellow recruit. When Riggins found out how many languages he spoke, Vogel had also been transferred to Blackwing to become the first member of the strike team.  
Todd sighed. Seeing how accomplished everyone else was in the operation had made him feel pretty much useless. Still feeling pent up with nervous energy, Todd decided to go check out the training room so he could work some of it off, but when he entered the room he froze. Everyone else in the programme was there too. Bart was in a corner, throwing daggers with lethal force into a target. Martin was climbing up a rope. Ken was sitting against the wall, papers scattered around him, a look of intense concentration on his face. Vogel and Gripps were going hand to hand, and Cross seemed to be keeping score. Then the door banged shut behind Todd, the noise echoing around the hall, and everyone turned to look at him. For a moment everything was still, and then they all turned back to whatever they had been doing.  
Todd hovered awkwardly in the doorway and cleared his throat. Everyone continued to ignore him. If anything, they appeared to become more concentrated with their tasks. Ken gathered up all his papers into a somewhat orderly pile and turned to start a conversation with Bart. Vogel, Cross and Gripps increased their volume, and Martin continued to climb serenely down the rope. Todd hesitated again before looking around the room. In the corner nearest to him there was a punching bag. He decided to head over to it and work off some energy, as he was even more nervous at seeing how everyone had reacted to him – or rather, hadn’t reacted. He shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, then quickly settled into a rhythm.  
He was just beginning to get lost in the pattern of punch, punch, steady bag, when he was startled by a hand clapping down on his shoulder. He turned around to see Martin staring down at him over the rims of his glasses. Todd instantly felt intimidated by him. He tried to stand up straighter and look more intimidating himself, but thought that he failed. Martin released his shoulder and continued to stare at him.  
“Hello,” Todd almost squeaked out, before he cleared his throat and began again. “Hello, my name is Todd Brot – Lieutenant Todd Brotzmann,” he said, quite proud that his voice hadn’t shook or cracked.  
Martin looked him up and down, before nodding and walking away.  
Todd let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He didn’t want to jinx anything, but he thought he’d earned Martin’s respect – or at least, hadn’t earned his disrespect. Todd smiled to himself, and turned back to the punching bag, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.


	2. Chapter 2

_Somewhere in the French countryside, October 1917_

There was a pounding at Dirk’s door. “Yes, come in?” Dirk barely restrained a sigh. He had just lain down for a nap before he attempted his mountain of paperwork, and whoever was attempting to knock down his door better have had a darn good reason for doing so, because Dirk was tired, Goddammit all. He was barely sleeping anymore, the only way he could was by napping during the day, and the private outside was _still_ knocking frantically at the door. Dirk rolled his eyes then strode across the room, flinging the door open and giving the private at the door a heart attack. ‘Good,’ thought Dirk smugly. Serve him right for interrupting him.

“Sir, we have an emergency,” the private began right away, before hurriedly executing a sloppy salute.

“What is it?” Dirk sighed. If the emergency was that Rowlands and Wainwright had gotten themselves beat up again, Dirk was going to have their heads.

“Sir, there’s been a break-in, by unknown, possibly hostile forces, sir!”

Dirk straightened and focused on the private, all ears now. “Where? And when did this happen? How many of them are there?”

“The intruders are currently in the mess hall, sir, and they arrived around half an hour ago or so. We don’t know how many they are, or how they got in,” the private, Williams, answered hastily.

“Half an hour ago?” Dirk screeched, then took a calming breath. “Half an hour ago?” he repeated again, in a calmer tone of voice. “And no one thought to inform me of this sooner?”

“No one knew, sir!” Dirk raised an eyebrow. “The last time that someone was in the mess hall was at 0900 hours, and when Sergeant Whitehall tried to enter at 0930 hours, there were people in there! He sent me straight to you sir,” Williams finished, staring Dirk earnestly in the eye. Dirk sighed then strode down the hall, hurriedly rebuttoning his shirt, until he reached the mess hall.

He glanced through the frosted pane of the mess hall window. He could make out five or six shadows, he wasn’t sure. He quietly ordered a full squadron of people to arm up, before he used his master key that hung around his neck to open the door. Dirk silently gestured for his men to enter the room and line up around the perimeter, and aim their weapons at the intruders, before walking in himself.

Inside, he could see five men. One, a tall, skinny man with white hair – despite his seeming youth –and glasses, had his booted feet up on a table in the corner, cleaning out his nails with a knife.  There was a young black man in the other corner, throwing two knives into the dart board that hung there. And in the middle were three other men playing cards. As Dirk’s men came in and surrounded them, they hardly reacted. The bespectacled man tensed in his seat, and the knife throwing man idly spun a knife around in his hands. One of the men playing cards, a small dark-haired man, muttered something to them and then loudly said, in an American accent, “I'm going to move now, and show your commanding officer some papers, please don’t shoot me.”

The soldiers looked to Dirk, so he nodded in agreement, and they all relaxed slightly. The small man stood slowly up and then walked over to Dirk, looking him up and down with the tiniest of smiles on his face, before pausing and handing some papers to Dirk. He looked them over. It seemed that they were American soldiers that were part of a covert strike team, and Dirk was to tell his men that they were just a small protection force to help assist them “in these troubled times.” They were to be staying at the same base as Dirk and his men, and the papers had been signed by high-ranking men on both sides of the pond.

Dirk relaxed. If this many important people had signed the documents, then there was no way that these men were German spies. He motioned to his men, and one by one they trailed out of the room, although many of them did so quite reluctantly. Then Dirk finally let himself examine the man with whom he was to be working for the next however many months. Brotzmann was smaller than him, with a wiry build. He had dark hair with a hint of a curl in it, and big, blue eyes that Dirk felt he could just drown in. He was interrupted in his observations by an awkward throat clearing. Brotzmann was shifting awkwardly, then began to speak.

“So, uh... we’re working together now, I guess?” he began, shoulders slightly hunched, hands in pockets. He looked so awkward, and so cute. And then he smiled. At Dirk. And all Dirk could do was think ‘if he keeps smiling at me like that, I’m going to be in trouble.’

 

* * *

 

_Roughly half an hour earlier, at the same location_

Martin crouched down at the door, frowning in concentration as he picked the lock on the side door. Cross, Gripps and Vogel were keeping watch, while Todd studied the probable layout of the base that they had drawn up together. He checked his watch. They had exactly four minutes before the mess hall would be emptied. They had to time their approach exactly, otherwise they would be caught early. Todd was just about to ask Martin what was taking him so long when he pushed his glasses back up his nose and nodded that he was done. Todd smiled. Now they could proceed as planned.

The five of them cautiously entered the building. They took the first right, and luckily it seemed to be a central corridor. No one seemed to notice them, as the American army looked pretty similar to the British one on first glance. Plus, they all walked spread out, so a large group of new people wouldn’t be noticed either. Finally, they arrived at what appeared to be the mess hall, and in perfect time too. As they approached the end of the hallway, a blonde man locked up the mess hall and walked away, leaving the corridor free.

Martin once again picked the lock, and they closed the door behind them, before relocking the door from the inside. This way, no one would notice for another half an hour at least. Todd had estimated that by suddenly appearing within their midst, the British soldiers wouldn’t mess with them and would leave them alone, to get on with their job. It would also prove their abilities, to themselves, as a confidence booster, and to their superiors and the commanding officer here. Their superiors, to get them off their backs, and the commanding officer, to make sure that he wouldn’t prevent them from completing missions and would assist them. And wouldn’t try to oust them, as he wouldn’t know what they were capable of.

“Alright, everyone, we have around half an hour to kill,” Todd announced, before holding up a deck of cards. “Who wants to lose against me?”

Martin bowed out after losing the first round, and instead sat in the corner with his feet on the table, cleaning his nails it looked like.  Gripps removed two of his many knives and started throwing them at a target in the corner, and Cross, Vogel and Todd continued playing cards up until the commanding officer walked in, calmly ignoring all the jumpy soldiers surrounding them.  It was only when the commanding officer entered the corner of Todd’s eye that he slowly announced that he was moving.

He approached the Brit, looking him up and down. He looked young, in his early twenties, with bright eyes and what looked like brunette hair, though Todd wasn’t sure. He was slightly taller than Todd, and looked rather dishevelled. His shirt wasn’t buttoned up correctly, and was rumpled on one side. His hair was also messed up on one side. He had clearly been sleeping before Todd’s arrival woke him up. Todd felt sorry for the man – he was pale and had large shadows under his eyes. He obviously wasn’t sleeping well. Todd cleared his throat awkwardly as he realised that he had been staring at the man for far too long. He stuck his hands in his pocket, and began.

“So, uh... we’re working together now, I guess?” he said, then introduced himself. “Lieutenant Todd Brotzmann, and you are?”

“Lieutenant Dirk Gently, of his Majesty’s Army, 53rd Battalion, at your service,” Gently smiled and bowed - actually bowed! - to him, and Todd swore internally. He was going to fall hard and fast for this man. He could feel it in his bones. 


	3. Chapter 3

_Dirk and Todd’s briefing room, November 1917_

Todd sighed as he looked over the plans again. He and the Rowdies were supposed to be attacking a German forward base tomorrow evening, but Todd couldn’t figure out how to approach the base without alerting the enemy. He glanced over the papers again before giving up. Todd pushed his chair out and stood up, letting out a moan as he finally got to stretch his back out. He had been hunched over those plans for hours now. Just then, Dirk wandered into the room, glaring down at the files in his hands and muttering under his breath.

“Hello, Dirk,” Todd said. Dirk was startled though. He let out a small scream and dropped the files all over the floor.

“Oh gosh, you gave me a fright!” Dirk huffed, before bending down to pick everything up. Todd apologised as he leant down and began helping Dirk. Between the two of them, it didn’t take long before almost all the files were gathered up again. There was only one file left, and they both reached for it at the same time. Todd could feel himself blush a little as his hand grazed Dirk’s. He could have sworn that his hand was tingling where they had touched. He cleared his throat awkwardly when they both stood up.

“So, what had you so annoyed that you didn’t even realise that I was in the room?” Todd asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, just filling out requisition forms for stupid things. For example, Donovan and Smith need new boots because they lost theirs on the roof because of a bet.”

Yeah, Todd could see how that could be annoying, alright. “Do you want me to have my boys talk some sense into them?” Todd asked. He liked Dirk, and if he could help Dirk in any way he would.

“No, no, no, it’s quite alright, I already gave out to them for half an hour.” Dirk replied.

“Ahhh,” responded Todd. There was an awkward silence.

“So, what about you?” Dirk asked after a moment.

“Oh, I'm just trying to organise something, but I can’t figure out the finer details.” Todd said.

“Do you want some help?” offered Dirk.

Todd hesitated. On the one hand, this mission was quite highly classified. On the other hand, however, Todd knew that he needed a fresh pair of eyes to look it over, otherwise he would never figure it out. “Yes, sure,” he eventually said.

The two of them sat down at Todd’s desk and perused the papers again. Todd explained his problem, then let Dirk have his input. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at Dirk. His eyes sparkled and he was grinning with excitement, gesturing wildly as he tossed idea after idea into the air. They finally came up with a semi-decent plan for infiltrating the forward post. Vogel would be dressed as a wounded German soldier and would distract the majority of the sentries, while Gripps would use his knives to take out the rest. Martin would use his lock picking skills to gain entrance to the base and to the officer’s room. Cross would then grab all the documents that looked important whilst Martin and Todd would keep guard. Then they would destroy the base with explosives on the way out. It was a solid plan. Todd thanked Dirk profusely, who waved it off with a blush.

 

* * *

 

After that, Dirk and Todd grew closer to one another. They started to spend their evenings together, after writing up their reports.  They laughed and talked until they fell asleep, or sat together in comfortable silence, or listened to music on Dirk’s gramophone, or played cards together. Todd often wrote to Amanda during this time. Dirk often felt slightly lonely when this happened, because it reminded him of the fact that he had no one at home to write to. One evening, he and Todd were talking when one of Dirk’s men, Brady, walked in.

“Mail’s arrived, sir!” he exclaimed cheerfully, before handing Todd the customary envelope. Dirk was just resigning himself to a quiet evening, when he was surprised by Brady handing him an envelope too. “What’s this?” Dirk asked Todd once Brady had left. Todd looked vaguely uncomfortable. He scratched the back of his neck as he told Dirk that he might’ve mentioned to Amanda that Dirk had no one to write to. Dirk could feel something inside his chest warm at this, at the fact that Todd had not only noticed Dirk’s sadness, but had also cared enough to do something about it. Dirk smiled at Todd and turned to open the letter, missing Todd’s answering grin and blush as he did so.

Dirk excitedly opened the letter. _Dear Dirk,_ read Amanda’s neat handwriting, _I hope that it is alright to write to you? Todd told me that you never seem to get any letters, and he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings by this, he just wants you to be happy. I am assuming that you know who I am, but I thought that an introduction wouldn’t hurt! After all, if we met in person, we would shake each other by the hand and introduce ourselves so. In letter writing, it seems only polite to do the same! My name is Amanda Brotzmann, I am 17 years old, I love walking in the rain, and I have one brother who is older than me. Whom you know quite well, from what I have heard! And how about you, Dirk? Do you have any siblings? What do you most like to do? I have other hobbies too, of course. I like looking at maps, and imagine all the places in the world I could go. Have you travelled much? I have only been to New York, and that is nearly 10 years ago now. I don’t remember much, except the Statue of Liberty. I have a painting of that in my room! Now, I think that I have written enough to start a conversation now. That is, of course, if you do not mind. I do not wish to pressure you! I shall now wish you a good day, and hope that we can write to each other._

_Yours sincerely, Amanda._

After reading the letter, Dirk immediately turned to Todd and thanked him, tears of happiness in his eyes. He clutched the letter to his chest and immediately sat down at his desk to write a letter back to Amanda. Once again, he missed Todd smiling back at him. This time, it was a tender sort of smile, a fond smile. Todd continued to smile as he climbed up his bunk-bed to sleep.

 

* * *

 

_Base Headquarters, January 1918._

 Todd returned to their base after going on a solo recon mission to a nearby German camp. Todd entered the common room and, his arms outstretched in a hug, jokingly ran in Dirk’s direction. Dirk was confused, but excited and nervous at the same time. Why did Todd want to hug him? And why was he so excited? But then Todd ran straight past Dirk and hugged Vogel instead. Dirk felt oddly relieved, but also strangely disappointed. He didn’t know why. Todd hugged the rest of the members of his team, before hesitating in front of Dirk. He made as if to hug Dirk, but aborted half way through, and instead patted Dirk heavily on his shoulder. Both of them had a slight blush on their cheeks.

Dirk spent the next few weeks puzzling over why he had been so excited and then disappointed, but relieved. He came to no satisfactory answer.

 

* * *

 

_Dirk and Todd’s room, February 1918_

Dirk startled awake, just about managing to stifle the accompanying scream, but failed at keeping in the swear words when he slammed his forehead off of the top bunk.  He froze, but relaxed when he couldn’t hear any movement from Todd. Therefore, he was rather justified in having a heart attack when he heard Todd ask him if he was alright.

“Yes – just a nightmare. Go back to sleep, Todd,” Dirk tried to wave his concern off.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Todd asked, sleep making his voice thick.

“No no no, it’s alright, you can go back to sleep, honestly.”

Todd, however, ignored him, and instead climbed down the rickety ladder. He snagged one of his blankets and wrapped it around himself before sitting down on the edge of Dirk’s bed. Dirk sighed before doing the same, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him.

Dirk looked at Todd out of the corner of his eye. In the moonlight, his eyes seemed to shine bluer than ever before, and his cheekbones seemed to be more prominent. He seemed almost ethereal, with his pale skin, perched on the edge of his bed, as if at any moment he would disappear into the night. Dirk almost didn’t want to break the silence, but Todd turned an expectant gaze on him.

“I was in the Battle of the Somme, you know.” Todd nodded. “You’ve heard some stories?” Todd nodded again. “Yes, well... none of those stories do it justice. It was cold, and wet, and there was mud everywhere, and you had to stay in your trench, until an order would come down from above, and we’d have to go up top. We’d stream over the edge, all together, yelling, charging forward, shooting our guns, then putting bayonets on our guns, ‘til we either got shot down or reached barbed wire or called a retreat. Not once, did we get close to the German trench. Not once! And there was so much blood, and death, and screams –“ Dirk’s breath caught in his throat. “-God, Todd, the screams, I’ve never heard anything like it, the screaming, the begging, the crying-“ Dirk could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He leaned forward and put his face in his hands, rested his elbows on his knees.

“I was there for about a month when it happened. The order came from up high. We had to go over again. Jackson was cold, he’d stood up and joked that a bit of running would warm him right up. I yelled at him to duck his head, but it was too late – he got shot in the head by a German. I can still see it now – “ Dirk dug the palms of his hands into his eyes, as though that could help erase the image. “- anyways, that shocked me, and I was distracted when we went up top. I.. I was hit.” Todd nudged him with his shoulder, and Dirk looked over to see him looking at him with concerned fondness in his eyes. “Right here, in my stomach,” he continued, and lifted up his shirt and undershirt to reveal the jagged scar on his abdomen. Todd paled and furrowed his brows as he saw it, but merely nodded at Dirk to continue. “I was lying there in the mud for about eight hours, they say, but to me it felt like a lifetime. All I could feel was how cold and wet and muddy I was, and there was so much blood all over me, all over my hands, I could feel myself dying Todd. And oh God, how I wanted to, I wanted it all to end, I couldn’t handle the pain anymore, I just –“

“It’s alright,” Todd reassured him, and placed one hand around him, holding him close. Dirk hadn’t even realised that he had been shaking until he stopped, Todd’s arm grounding him in reality.

After a while, Dirk felt calm enough to continue on. “There were these medics, they had heard from my men that I was still out here. Apparently, they had heard me screaming. The medics picked me up, and then I was brought to a field hospital, and then a command unit, and so on, until I was deemed fit enough and they sent me back here, to France.” At that, Dirk relaxed, all the tension easing out of his body. He leaned his head on Todd’s shoulder, and the two of them stayed like that ‘til the rising sun flooded the room with colour, Todd’s presence calming and grounding Dirk. 

 

* * *

 

After that night, Todd found himself growing closer and closer to Dirk. He would try and spend as much time as possible with him as he could, making up excuses as to why they should plan tactics together or write their reports together. Todd also found himself telling Amanda about everything that Dirk did, whether it was the way he always hummed under his breath when they listened to music, or how Dirk looked in the mornings, eyes still small with sleep, face open and innocent and free of the worry and fear that he normally carried, or how Dirk always seemed to light up whenever he saw something exciting, like a letter from Amanda or a butterfly outside or the first trees that had their leaves. Todd couldn’t help but fall more in love with Dirk every day, and it was apparent to anyone who knew him.

Amanda would tease him in her letters, like they used to do back when they were in school. Martin kept ‘accidentally’ knocking Todd into Dirk or vice versa. Vogel kept suggesting various rude opinions as to what they should do. (Under his breath, of course. Dirk was entirely oblivious to that. Todd? Not so much.) Cross and Gripps conspired together to leave Dirk and Todd alone together whenever they could feasibly get away with it, and on one occasion even when they couldn’t. Even Ken and Bart noticed whenever they popped by. Bart grinned lecherously at him then punched him in the arm. Ken offered a reassuring smile at Todd over her shoulder.  Todd grinned ruefully back, rubbing at his arm.

However, Todd’s little bubble of happiness was popped one day when he received a letter from Amanda. _Dear Todd, I don’t know how to say this,_ it began. _I was walking out in the rain last month and I got a cold. However, the cold got worse and worse, and finally last week the doctor told me the news._

_I have tuberculosis, Todd._


	4. Chapter 4

After that letter, things started to change. Todd started to rely more on Dirk’s endless optimism, and found himself depending on Dirk to keep his spirits up. Of course, in his letters to Amanda, Todd did his best to reassure Amanda that not only would she be alright, but that he was alright too. Todd also started exchanging letters with Amanda’s new nurse, a young woman named Farah Black. Farah was a very professional and friendly young woman, if a bit prone to worrying. Todd was reassured by this. He also was delighted that Amanda had made a new friend in Farah’s previous charge, a miss Lydia Spring. The two of them were nearly the same age, and they got along like a house on fire.

After another month, Amanda’s tuberculosis seemed to be improving. She no longer had to lie in bed all day. She could now sit upright in her chair, and even walk slowly around her room. Amanda was delighted that she was no longer bed bound. Todd cautioned her against doing too much too soon, she assured him that Farah and Lydia were taking the utmost care of her.

Todd began to relax. He once again spent all his spare time with Dirk, and they started working closer together. They would plan missions together, tossing around ideas for tactics and strategies that they could use against the enemy. Dirk’s tactics, though incredibly unorthodox most of the time, surprisingly always seemed to work. This lead Todd to rely more and more on Dirk and his ideas, and Todd began to reveal more and more confidential information to him. Todd also increasingly began to share credit with Dirk in his mission reports.

All this increased mentions of Dirk in Todd’s reports did not go unnoticed by Todd’s superiors, however...

 

* * *

 

_Black Wing Headquarters, June 1918_

Riggins looked up from his file as a knock on his door interrupted him. “Come in,” he called, straightening up in his chair.

The door opened. Standing there was Corporal Friedkin. “I have the latest mission reports from Lieutenant Brotzmann, sir,” he said, then walked over to Riggins and handed them over. Riggins sighed, then opened the reports.

After a couple of moments, he glanced up. “Dismissed, Corporal,” he said.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but Major Wilson wants to see you right away, sir.”

Riggins hastily stood up. “And you’re only telling me this now?” he exclaimed.

“Sorry, sir. I forgot,” was Friedkin’s excuse.

Riggins rolled his eyes as he hurriedly pulled on his uniform jacket and hat. “Did she say what about?” he asked.

“It’s about a person named Gentle, sir?” Friedkin responded, sounded confused.

Riggins swore under his breath as he gathered up all the necessary paperwork. “Dismissed, Corporal,” he said, then walked hastily towards Wilson’s office.

Inside, he was met by the frosty atmosphere that always seemed to follow Wilson around. “Take a seat, Scott,” she smiled coldly. “We have a lot to discuss...”

 

* * *

 

_The common room, August 1918_

“Two threes,” Dirk said, laying two cards face down on the large pile of cards on the table.

Todd paused and looked at his cards. He had two threes as well. “Bullshit?” he ventured. Dirk turned over the first card. It was a three.

“Ooooh,” chorused the boys. Dirk turned over the other card. Another three. Vogel screeched loudly in delight as Martin laughed at the dismay on Todd’s face. Dirk was grinning as he pushed the pile of cards over to Todd. Cross and Gripps chuckled as they saw Todd’s reluctance to take the cards.

Things were just beginning to settle down again when suddenly the door slammed open and a crowd of strangers stormed in, shouting at them all to put their hands up and step away from the desk. Todd exchanged a look of confusion with Dirk. Dirk shook his head minutely in reply. Then Dirk was roughly grabbed and manhandled out of the room, and what appeared to be a commanding officer turned to everyone there and asked where Todd was. Todd slowly stepped forward. “You are to be in charge of this base until a replacement for Cjelli is sent out. You will report to Major Wilson immediately,” he was brusquely told, before the man turned and stalked out of the room.

Todd stood there in shock, before he collected himself and ran after the man. “Wait!” he called after him. “Wait! What’s happening? Who are you? Who’s Cjelli? Where are you taking Dir – Lieutenant Gently?” The man paused and turned around to face Todd. Todd scanned his impassive face, trying to work out what was going on. “We can talk in my room,” Todd continued, slightly more calm, before leading the way. He sat down at his desk and the man sat down at the other – Dirk’s – desk. Todd swallowed.

“The man you know as Dirk Gently is actually named Svlad Cjelli,” began the man. “He is originally from Romania, but his parents lived in the Austro-Hungarian Empire. He was adopted by the Gentlys as an infant. As he did not declare this in his sign up papers, and as he is currently in possession of much classified information, we have decided to take him into custody to determine if he is a spy for the enemy.”

Todd sank back down against his desk. Dirk, a spy? He could hardly believe it. No, he didn’t believe it! He straightened up in his chair. “I don’t believe you. Dirk – or Svlad – whatever his name is – he wouldn’t betray England! He’s trustworthy, I swear it!” Todd said fervently.

The man’s face softened. “Be that as it may, Lieutenant, we must be certain.” The man stood up and walked to the door. “I bid you good day,” he said, then saluted and left the room. Todd was left sitting there, alone, wondering what he could do next. He reached for a pen and paper and started writing a letter to Amanda.


	5. Chapter 5

_British Prisoner of War Labour Camp, England, September 1918_

Dirk swiped his hand across his forehead to get rid of the sweat that was trickling down into his eyes. Glancing around, he saw that the guard on duty wasn’t looking in his direction, so he risked straightening up and stretching his back. He heard the guard shout, and startled, but relaxed when it appeared it wasn’t directed at him. ‘Enough resting,’ Dirk decided, and adjusted his grip on his axe, before swinging it again, letting out a muffled groan when it thudded against the tree trunk for the nth time that day, and rubbed against his blisters.

Dirk had been here for around a month, he thought. He had been briefly questioned when he was first apprehended, and every second or third day he would be questioned again. Every morning he would be woken by a sergeant screaming at everyone at the crack of dawn. Then he would be escorted to an ice cold shower, and from there, either to the trucks to be driven to work at the lumber yard, or bundled into a dark room where a bright light would be shone into his eyes and he was asked the same questions over and over again. “What is your name?” “Where are you from?” “Who are you loyal to?” “Where did you get information from?” “Who did you give confidential information to?” and then a whole litany of seemingly inane questions, like “Where were you last Christmas?” “When were you last in contact with such and such a person?” and such. Dirk had the feeling that they were waiting for him to trip up.

The constant stress of never knowing when he was going to be questioned, the stress of not knowing when the shoe would drop and he would be executed for treason, the hard labour, the lack of sleep and proper food, and his increasing nightmares all meant that Dirk was getting weaker and weaker by the day. His ribs were already starting to show a little, and he had deep shadows under his eyes. He was also developing a slight shake in his right hand, which made swinging the axe a little harder, and aggravated the blisters on his hands.

All Dirk wanted to do was to be back at the barracks with Todd, writing a letter to Amanda and chatting with Todd about his day. But the way things were going, Dirk didn’t think that that would ever happen again.

 

* * *

 

_Dirk and Todd’s room, September 1918_

Todd ran his hands through his hair, before groaning in frustration. Their plan was getting nowhere. They had no intel as to the interior of the camp, no intel as to the guard schedule, no intel as to anything really. Bart and Ken hadn’t been able to find out much except that Dirk had been transferred to a camp in England two months ago. Todd was getting more frustrated by the second.

And more scared, though he didn’t show that to anyone except Amanda in his letters. Todd didn’t even know if Dirk was still alive, and that terrified him. He was in a completely different country, with no way of helping Dirk, or even finding out information. Todd had never felt so helpless in his entire life.

He sighed and called everyone in before sitting back down again. Todd was going to debrief everyone, and then he would falsify some orders and requisition forms so he could send his men out to find out more information. He also started mentally compiling a list of all the favours that he could call in, or that he could call in on Dirk’s behalf.

Later that night, after writing another letter to Amanda, Todd lay down on Dirk’s bed instead of his. He had never thought that he could miss someone this much. It was like a physical pain, deep in his chest. He breathed in the faint lingering scent of Dirk that still clung to the pillow. Immediately it relaxed him, easing a knot inside of him that he hadn’t even known existed until then. Todd resolved then and there that no matter what happened, he would stop at nothing to get Dirk back.

 

He loved him too much to let him go.

 

* * *

 

_Dirk and Todd’s room, October 1918_

Todd was interrupted from a meeting with Ken by Vogel running triumphantly into the room. “Todd, Todd, you have to see this!” he yelled, excitedly waving a piece of paper in the air. He thrust it into Todd’s face. He nearly crossed his eyes as he tried to read it, before giving up and grabbing it off of Vogel. It was a telegram from Amanda.

LYDIA TOLD FATHER STOP SPRING GENERAL STOP ORDERED IT BE INVESTIGATED PROPERLY STOP DIRK RELEASED NEXT TUESDAY END.

Todd felt as though the world stood still for a moment. Dirk was going to be released! He had never felt so relieved in his life! Dirk would finally be freed! He yelled out his joy, grabbing Vogel in a bear hug. He was just as excited. Their shouting attracted everyone else, and the news spread throughout the base like wildfire. That evening, there was a massive party as everyone celebrated.

Before Todd went to bed that night, he patted Dirk’s bed and simply said “See you soon.” The next morning, he officially sent a request to his superiors to pick Dirk up in England. The request was accepted.

 

* * *

 

_Tuesday, October 22 nd, 1918 _

Dirk’s hands were shaking more than usual as he stood in front of the gates. However, this time it wasn’t due to exhaustion or stress, but excitement. He was finally going to be free! No more interrogation! No more chopping trees! No more horribly early mornings! No more inadequate servings of food! Dirk almost felt like laughing out loud, he was so happy.

The gates slowly creaked open. And standing there, in front of them, was Todd. Dirk’s heart stopped beating. Time seemed to slow, and the next thing he knew, he was standing in front of Todd. Dirk stared at him, and then they were hugging like they hadn’t seen each other in years, clutching desperately at each other. Dirk had never felt like this in his entire life. He felt like his heart was about to leap from his chest, like his soul was about to burst into song. He had never felt so happy in his life. He never wanted to leave Todd’s embrace.

All too soon, however, they had to separate. They stood there, drinking each other in. Dirk noticed that Todd’s hair was a little longer than when he had last seen it, and he had a five o clock shadow on his cheeks. He had large bags under his eyes and he looked paler than usual, but otherwise he looked great.

They were interrupted by Dirk’s stomach grumbling. He blushed; Todd merely laughed up at him, eyes sparkling, mouth spread wide in an infectious grin that Dirk had no choice but to return. “Well, I know what we have to do next,” Todd commented slyly.

They sat down at a small café in the centre of the town. Todd merely ordered a coffee, but Dirk ordered as much food as was on the menu. The waitress was surprised, but didn’t say anything, obviously noticing Dirk’s lack of weight. When the food came, Dirk attacked it with a viciousness that surprised even him. Twenty minutes later, he surfaced for air to find Todd smiling fondly at him across the table. Dirk’s heart skipped a beat for some reason, and he felt himself blush as he smiled back at Todd.

The two of them walked around the town together, just talking, until eventually they ended up at the station. Dirk smiled sadly at Todd. Their time together was rapidly running out. Dirk was headed to a command depot, where he would be fed up properly and trained back to fitness before being sent back. Most likely, as far away from Todd as was possible.

“Promise me you’ll write once you’re out of the command depot?” Todd asked, an earnest expression on his face. Dirk nodded, too overcome with emotion to properly speak. “And once the war is over, you and me could live together in America, how about that?” Dirk nodded again, before leaning forward and hugging Todd tightly again, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

Later that night, when Dirk was lying in bed, he finally realised why he had been so nervous when Todd had nearly hugged him for the first time, why it was so easy to talk to Todd, why his heart beat a little faster whenever he was near him, why he had been so relieved when he had seen him standing there waiting for him outside of the prison.

He was in love with Todd Brotzmann. God help him. He was so in love.


	6. Chapter 6

_Todd and Dirk’s room, 10 th November 1918 (Day after Armistice Day) _

Todd stared numbly down at the telegraph, mind not even processing the words anymore. He was in shock, frozen in time as he desperately tried to ignore the message. AMANDA DYING STOP TB WORSE STOP HURRY BEFORE ITS TOO LATE STOP FARAH OVER. He couldn’t believe it. Amanda was supposed to die old, peacefully, in her sleep, surrounded by her family, not, not – Todd’s thoughts stuttered to a halt. Not aged 18, coughing and choking her way out of life. It wasn’t fair! If either of them should have died, it was him! He was the one at war! Not her! He’d promised her he’d stay safe. Why hadn’t he made her do the same?

Todd yelled then punched the wall. The pain was a welcome distraction, so he continued to pound the wall, yelling his anger and fear and desperation into the world. He continued until he felt blood pour down his knuckles, until he couldn’t control the shaking in his arms anymore, until the pain was too much to bear, and then he sunk down to the floor and wrapped his arms around his legs, rested his head against his knees. He let out a sob, and then it was like a dam broke. He couldn’t control it. He cried until his throat was hoarse, snot dribbling down his face, eyes rubbed raw and red. Eventually the sobs petered out, leaving Todd numb again, cold inside. Like something had frozen inside of him.

He steeled himself, then pushed himself up off the floor. His entire body was stiff, in pain, after spending so long curled up against the wall. Todd stretched out a little, then examined his hands. His knuckles were cracked and bleeding, and he couldn’t make a fist. He headed to the first aid box and cleaned the blood off his hands. Cleaned off his face. Clumsily wrapped bandages around his hands. Then he lay down on Dirk’s bunk bed and breathed in the faint scent that clung to the pillows. Curling around the pillow, Todd fell into a troubled sleep.

 

* * *

 

When Todd woke up, his arms and fists were in agony. The bandage on his right was red. It had bled through. Todd changed the bandages again, then packed all his gear. He headed off to the communications room, where Ken was fiddling with a pencil, staring down at a crossword.

“Ken, can you send a message for me?” Todd grimaced at hearing his voice. It sounded hollow, hoarse.

Ken looked up at hearing him, opened his mouth to ask something, then seemed to reconsider. “Yes sir. What’s the message?”

“Send a telegram to headquarters. Tell them I have a family emergency. Ask for permission to move our departure date forward. Inform me when you have an answer.” Todd walked out of the room as soon as he finished, barely hearing Ken’s reply.

He headed back to his room and sat on Dirk’s bed again, holding the pillow close to him, burying his head in the pillow and taking long, measured breaths. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there when Ken knocked on the door. “Sir, they’ve moved our evacuation up to the day after tomorrow. It’s the earliest they could do.” He seemed to hesitate, then continued “Sir, I'm... we’re sorry.” Todd merely nodded, then waved him away. Ken took the hint and left, quietly shutting the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

For the fortnight, Todd functioned on autopilot. He ate when Ken knocked on his door, he washed himself when the moon rose, then he curled up on his bed and stared at the wall until he fell asleep. Finally, one morning he was roused by Ken’s hand on his shoulder. “Sir, we’ve arrived home,” he said. Todd nodded, then sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “There’s a train leaving in half an hour, sir, it goes all the way to Seattle. You’ll be home in three days, sir.”

Ken turned to leave, but Todd reached out and grabbed his sleeve. “Ken –“ he started, but choked on his words.

“I know, sir.” He nodded then released his grip, letting Ken leave the room.

Todd got up and dressed in his uniform, made sure all his belongings were packed, then headed out of the boat and onto the train. He chose a quiet spot in the corner of a carriage, beside a window, and stared out of it, watching as the train began to pick up speed, watching as the buildings of New York faded to green countryside, watching as towns and villages arrived and were left behind in the shadow of the train. Finally, he dozed off, waking at intervals, a child crying or someone speaking loudly or an extended stop at some station interrupting his sleep.

After two days of this, Todd began to recognise some features in the window; a mountain here, a tree there, this and that neighbouring village. Eventually the train began to pull into Seattle train station. Todd roused himself and gathered his bag, heading towards the door. The train had just stopped when Todd nearly ripped off the door, sprinting out into the station. Outside he stopped a cab and roughly handed over some loose change, merely saying “Brotzmann mansion please.” The cabbie looked at the money, looked at Todd again, and decided to just drive him home.

Todd stared out of the window, his leg bouncing up and down with nervous energy, until he saw the silhouette of his house rise up out of the encroaching dusk. The cabbie pulled up to the house. Todd stepped out, home after a year. Walked up to the familiar porch. Knocked on the door. After a few minutes, a young black woman opened the door. Todd recognised her from the one picture Amanda had sent. Her eyes were red. “Todd, I'm... I'm so sorry. She died this morning.”

Todd’s bag slipped out of his numb fingers.

‘I never even got to say goodbye,’ was all he could think, before he collapsed.


	7. Chapter 7

_Seattle, December 1918_

Dirk stepped off the train, suitcase grasped firmly in his hand. The suitcase contained most of his worldly possessions – the rest would be arriving later by boat. He was so excited! He’d caught an earlier train so as to surprise Todd. Originally he had been supposed to arrive in a week, but his papers had gone through faster than he expected. Glancing around, he spotted a cab driver, and wandered over to him.

“Brotzmann mansion, please,” he said to the cab driver.

“Oh, they’re probably not home right now.”

“Where would they be then?” Dirk questioned.

“They’re probably all at the church,” he replied.

“Then take me there instead!” Dirk decided. He wondered why the Brotzmanns were at church. As far as he could remember, Todd’s parents hadn’t been particularly religious. At least, not so religious as that they would go to church on a Wednesday afternoon. But maybe they were having a celebratory mass to welcome Todd home? As Dirk understood it, Todd had been due to arrive home this week. Of course, they hadn’t communicated in quite some time, as Dirk had first been recovering then Todd had been stood down, and ordered to only communicate in emergencies.

As Dirk arrived at the church, he saw people walking around the church and the nearby graveyard. However, what made Dirk’s heart sink was the fact that everyone was wearing black. Dirk stopped to pay the driver with the briefest of attention spared. All his attention was focused on the crowd, trying desperately to find Todd. His heart began to beat a little faster as his eyes kept scanning people’s faces but coming up empty.

Dirk was beginning to panic now. What if something had happened to Todd whilst he was in France? Was that why the driver had known that the Brotzmanns would be here? Dirk’s breath was coming faster and his hands were shaking worse than ever as he began to push his way through the crowd, heading up through until he reached the very edge. There, standing alone beside a freshly dug grave, head bowed, dressed in his military dress, was Todd. Dirk couldn’t stop the exclamation that left him.

Todd looked up at hearing his name, a look of devastation on his face. At seeing Dirk, his face seemed to crumple in on itself, and Todd began sprinting over to Dirk. Dirk opened his arms up wide, and Todd barrelled into him, clutching at him like Dirk was the only thing that was keeping him afloat, before beginning to sob.

“Amanda – gone-“ was all he managed to understand, but it was enough. Dirk’s heart sunk in his chest. It explained Todd’s behaviour. Todd had just lost the person he cared most about in the world. All Dirk could do was hold Todd close and whisper in his ear, rubbing his back and soothing him. They sunk down to the floor, Dirk rocking Todd backwards and forwards, until eventually Todd’s sobs trailed off into the occasional hiccupping sob. Dirk wiped his tears away with his thumbs, and smiled comfortingly at Todd. Todd seemed to appreciate it, as he attempted to smile back.

Eventually, the gravel they were kneeling on registered, and Dirk stood up, being careful not to jostle his ribs too much. Todd rubbed at his face, then hoarsely asked if Dirk wanted to say goodbye too. He nodded, then followed Todd over to the grave. He closed his eyes and pictured the lively little girl he’d heard so much about, that he’d written so many letters to, who’d been so kind to him, a lonely foreigner who’d befriended her brother.

Of course, Todd was more than a friend now, Dirk thought. He’d known for quite some time that he liked Todd, but it was only when he was imprisoned that he realised just how deep his affections for him ran. That he realised that he, in fact, loved Todd Brotzmann. Dirk was startled out of his thoughts by a hand slipping into his, and Todd’s head resting on his shoulder. Dirk tensed in surprise, but then relaxed, hoping that he was providing some sort of comfort to the grieving man beside him.

After a couple of minutes, Todd extracted his hand, before asking him if he had anywhere to stay. “No, unfortunately not,” Dirk replied.

“You can stay in one of the guest bedrooms in our house. I doubt my parents will mind,” Todd said, before leading the way to an automobile. “Takes us home please, Eames,” he said to the man sitting in the front. Dirk fought to keep from staring at Todd for the whole drive home. Having not seen him in over a month, Dirk found it hard to keep his eyes off of him. Dirk scolded himself for thinking of Todd like that at a time like this. Todd was devastated – that much was obvious.

When the automobile stopped, Dirk couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping in awe. The house was huge!  No, not a house – a mansion, Dirk corrected himself. Todd glanced over at him and couldn’t help a little chuckle escaping. Dirk immediately blushed, and began sputtering. Todd merely smiled at him before exiting the automobile. Dirk was a little concerned at how non-verbal Todd was being, but maybe that was normal for grief? Dirk didn’t know, he’d been very little when his parents died. Or adoptive parents, really, as he’d recently found out. 

When they stepped inside, there were plenty of people milling around, talking in low whispers. People fell silent and stared at Todd as he walked past, before whispering furiously once he had passed them. Dirk fumed silently as he followed him.

He was interrupted by a young lady that he also recognised. “Hello, Farah,” Dirk smiled and waved.

“Oh thank God you’re both here!” Farah exclaimed loudly, then blushed as she realised all the attention she had called to herself. “Amanda left letters to the both of you. She said you both had to read them at the same time,” she continued in a much quieter tone of voice, leading them out of the kitchen and into a smaller, quieter study. She unlocked a drawer and withdrew two envelopes. Dirk opened the one that was addressed to him.

_Dear Dirk,_ it said, _if you’re reading this it means I’m dead. I'm sorry, there’s not much I can do. Promise me you’ll take care of Todd? He won’t be able to get through this alone. He’ll need you, more than he realises, I think. And you need him, too. The two of you, you’re made for each other. I know how you feel about him. He feels the same way. Take your chance, Dirk, before it’s too late._

_Yours, Amanda._

_P.S. And don’t miss me! I'm definitely better off in Heaven, with no more coughing!_

Dirk finished the letter, a slight blush on his face, and hope rising in his heart. He dared to sneak a glance over at Todd, only to find that Todd was staring back at him, a slightly dumbstruck and hopeful expression on his face. Dirk smiled back at him, before reaching out his hand in invitation, holding his breath. Todd smiled back, and grasped it. Dirk felt his smile widen, joy briefly overshadowing the grief he felt, and squeezed Todd’s hand in his. They were going to face the future together, no matter what would come. Dirk was certain of that. Amanda was right. They were made for each other.


	8. Epilogue

The sun is shining down on the grass, reflecting off of the elderly man’s glasses as he painstakingly makes his way along the rows of gravestones until he seems to reach his destination. He rests a trembling hand on one gravestone, eyes closed in grief, before passing on to its neighbour. Here, he leans his cane against the headstone before laboriously making his way down to the ground, sitting with his back to the name. “Hello, love,” he greets warmly, his voice still strong despite the frailty of his body. “You will not believe the day I had today, love,” the man continues to ramble on about his day, as he has done every day since the war ended. Eventually he begins to come to the end of a long-winded tirade against his teapot manufacturer. His sentences begin to have longer and longer pauses between them, until eventually he trails off into silence.

“I’ve had a good long run of it, haven’t I, dear?” he eventually breaks the silence, laying his head against the headstone. “But I'm beginning to feel old now. I’m tired of being lonely, and I miss you...” He sighs. “I think, maybe it’s time for me to go...” the man smiles, before nodding to himself. “Yes, I think it’s time for a long, long nap...”

He closes his eyes, a peaceful smile gracing his face.

They never open again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was my first fic! Hope ye liked it :D It was written for the DGHDA Beginner Bang. Unfortunately, my artist, KyokoSayuki, was taken ill this week, so her drawing will be up at a later date. Hope you get better soon dearie! Also, I'd like to say a huge thank you to Abbie (acegently) for helping me with this fic, this would be pretty much nothing without you so from the bottom of my heart, thank you!


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